


Stormseeker: Light of Dragons

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Stormseeker Saga: Alternate Timelines [13]
Category: Dragon Age, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, M/M, Memories, Qunari, The Force, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:23:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexen, having saved the universe, returns to where he has been in hopes of regaining his lost memories. He finds himself in Kirkwall with friends long forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nexus

Lexen is my name. There's some titles I don't care about all that much. The Stormseeker. Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. Who lost everything and gained everything, forgot more about the universe than most people will ever know. And now, I seek to regain a measure of myself. My memories.

I don't remember much of the universes I visited early on. Flashes and fragments. How long have I been forgetting myself? What were the circumstances? If I am to pick up the pieces of a broken mind, I have to find myself before I began to forget. But how am I to return to a point that I do not remember?

I stand before the Nexus. I never needed this. Somewhere in the depths of my memories, I thought that I needed it, once. It nags at me, like a focal point, a place I always wished for and always lacked, and yet I could no longer remember that wish. I dreamed without doing, wished without wondering, stumbling blindly in the dark. No more.

I don't need to die to use my power. It's based on regret? There's still a lot of things I regret, but I don't think it's that literal. The Force is based on emotion. I don't need to be angry at someone to use Force Lightning on them, just angry in general. A good Sith Lord can control that anger to a fine edge like a blade, and call upon it at will without having to constantly be fuming about everything. And I realize that phrase "good Sith Lord" is an oxymoron. So, what I need to do in order to take control over my power is to learn to harness regret for my own ends, and not allow this power and my emotions control me.

The world around me fades into swirling gray mist, and colors flash around me. Half-formed images, not even a shattered mirror, but ground-up glass glittering as it scatters across the floor. The only thing that's clear is my most recent life, mostly the latter part, but shards of what happened before I lost my memory there remain. I remember my time as Darth Revan. Nothing more, not really. I don't even know where to begin, or what order things might have happened in. But a few points are brighter than others.

I reach toward one memory and hold it floating above my palm, like a grain of sand, shining brightly like a radiant beacon in the night. It's too small to tell what the memory is. But I don't have to stay back here, looking at these specks in... where am I, anyway? Is this an abstraction in my mind, or a halfway place, a limbo between space and time? But something still seems familiar about it. The mists... This is the Nexus, I realize in an epiphany. This is the true Nexus. The place between worlds, the connection between all things. Not merely the device that allows accessing this place.

Maybe, through the Nexus, I can remember everything I've forgotten. But for the moment, I will be content to examine this one shining mote more closely and see what secrets it might hold.

Light envelopes me. Blinding. Warm and cradling. It's a wonderful feeling, the Light Side of the Force in such strength that it's positively intoxicating.

I take a deep breath, blinking as the light fades from my vision and I can see again. Seven robed Jedi sit in a circle around me, still bristling with the Light Side. Some of them are human, and some have pointed ears. Elves? The ones Bastila thought might be Sephi or another near-human offshoot of them? Beside me in the middle of the circle, there is also a short alien with an angular mark on his cheek, along with another human who is wearing far too many belts. Around us, there are circles of glowing symbols, silver bowls of water, white flowers, and burning candles.

I had hoped that, wherever I wound up, I would be able to quietly look around and get my bearings first rather than being thrust into the middle of things, but it appears that that is not to be. It seems they'd just performed some sort of ritual, which was the light and energy I could detect even from the Nexus.

"Lexen?" asks a man standing off to the side. "How do you feel?"

I have no idea what that ritual was even supposed to do, but if it was using the Light Side to this magnitude, it must have been some sort of healing. "I'm good." I go to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes, and freeze. I have no hand. I stare in shock at the stump of my arm reaching up toward my face.

_I would sooner cut off my right hand than reject the Light Side of the Force._

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, dropping my arm. I don't know how long I've been without use of that hand in this timeline, but if I am to integrate with this timeframe, I must act as though I belong.

"That's going to take some getting used to," the man says sympathetically. "But at least it won't be tainted any longer."

I look over to him. I should probably recognize this man, standing there in dark blue robes and looking down at me fondly. But no name comes to mind to match with his face. Still, he seems to care about me and be concerned for my well-being, so I will gladly take that for all it's worth. He's still a friend, even if I don't remember his name. Climbing to my feet, I smile warmly at him.

"Let's go home," says the short, stocky alien. "I'm starved."

At his hip hangs a short sword, and a hand crossbow hangs over his shoulder. A warrior, clearly, and one who must often go up against people with energy shields. The Jedi aren't carrying any lightsabers, though, just some walking sticks. Maybe they left them behind so as not to interfere with this ritual. As we leave the chamber, one of the elf women, pregnant by the looks of her, steps in on my right side, and the man in blue on the left.

Outside the temple, a woman stands before us, redheaded with startlingly yellow eyes, a color I've never seen in a baseline human who wasn't immersed heavily in the Dark Side. The others with me freeze in surprise upon seeing her. "Who is that?" one of them whispers.

"Lexen," she says with a faint smile. It takes me a moment, but I recognize her from the vision of the future Sardill showed me.

" _Suzcecoz_ ," I say.

"You know this woman?" an older female Jedi asks me.

"She--"

Suzcecoz waves a hand. "Stand down. I mean no harm."

I take a deep breath. "What do you want, Suzy?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" I raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"You demanded my regret. You demanded my life. You demanded my very soul. And I gave them all without hesitation, in hopes that the disaster I wrought could be undone."

This is not the sort of thing I would have wanted spoken in front of ignorant bystanders, but Suzy doesn't even give them a second glance, as if they aren't even here. I bow my head toward her and remain silent for the moment.

"I owe you more than you could possibly realize," Suzy goes on. "I have a future-- we all have a future-- because of you."

"Weren't you a Sith Lord?" I ask quietly.

Suzy chuckles softly. "Whatever you did, purged anything demonic in me as well."

"Your eyes are still yellow."

She rolls her eyes. "My eyes were always yellow. I'm part elf."

"As you say." I grin. "So long as you mean no harm to myself or my family, I will accept your words in good faith."

"Of course." Suzy nods. "I will do what I can to keep them safe, on my part. I certainly owe you that much."

From her elevated heart rate and the Dark Side still swirling about her, I can easily tell that she's lying, but I can't really hold that against her. So long as she doesn't cross me, I don't care which side of the Force she wants to use. Without further ado, she vanishes without a trace. No visible warping of space or anything; she's simply gone.

"What was that all about?" the man in blue asks.

"It's a long story." I sigh.

"Aren't they all?"

"I would have preferred that the others had not heard what she said."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry. I put up a Privacy Charm the moment I realized you recognized her for exactly that reason."

"Thanks," I say, nodding.

"You will, of course, have to explain this all to me once we get home. What will we tell the others in the meantime?"

"You figure something out," I say. "I need to sit down and think about this for a moment."

"Fine, fine," he says, then pulls out a stick and waves it at the Jedi. " _Obliviate_."

I stare at him. "What did you just do?"

"I modified their memories."

"You did what?"

He shrugs. "I know you don't like it, but you asked, and it was the most expedient solution, especially given the lengthy and suspicious conversation with a woman they didn't expect to see here. Best that they don't remember her being here at all."

Could this be the source of my memory problems?

"Well, either way," says the pregnant elf. "Let's go home."

"Lexen, you want to get Rispy?" the man in blue asks me, gesturing to the short alien.

I blink at him, look toward the short alien, Rispy I presume, and back at him. Get him? How does he mean?

"Lexen?" he asks again, frowning.

The game's up. I knew I couldn't keep it up for long, especially around those who knew me well, but I had been hoping that some memories would return on their own. Even so much as their names. Maybe the means I used to get here prevented that. That's going to be inconvenient in getting my memories back. But at least I'm here, in this time and place. That's something.

I shake my head. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sure I didn't accidentally catch you in my Obliviation spell," the man in blue says. "Well, we'll figure it out when we get home. Kirlin, can you get Lexen?" he addresses the pregnant woman. "I'll get Rispy."

She nods to him, and puts an arm around me. "Come on. Hold on tight. I'll keep you safe."

Entirely confused, I hesitantly put my arms around her. The world distorts around us, warping past screaming dark shapes trying to claw at us through a bubble of light, but it's over in an instant and we're suddenly in a dingy back alley, stinking of garbage and filth, with no one else in sight. A moment later, the man in blue appears with Rispy. The others head out of the alley and into a nearby hovel, and I follow along behind them.

I gape as I enter the tiny hovel to find a luxurious expanse around me. My boots sink into plush, midnight blue carpeting, and fine tapestries hang along the walls depicting detailed images of dragons, among other things, and a silver chandelier hangs over head. Carven hardwood doors lead into other rooms, and a sweeping staircase ascends to a second floor.

"What's going on, Tom?" Kirlin asks the man in blue.

"Hopefully we shall discover that momentarily," Tom replies, gesturing us into a side room, and closes the door behind us. "Alright, this room is warded against any attempts at spying upon our conversation. We may speak freely here. Lexen, feel free to tell your long story now. We have all the time in the universe."

"Okay, first off," I say, raising a finger. "What the fuck is this house?"

Tom chuckles. "This is our home, in Lowtown in the city of Kirkwall, in the Free Marches, on the world of Thedas."

I don't recognize any of those names. "Yes, but, how-- how did you fit a mansion into this little shack?"

"Magic," Tom replies unhelpfully.

I roll my eyes, and slump down into a comfortable chair that is practically a throne. "Fine, whatever. You can tell me exactly what sort of _magic_ did this later. As you might have noticed, I don't remember anything about this world, or this life. I've been forgetting everything, again and again and again. I have no idea how many times or how many lives I have lived that I have forgotten. I found a way to return to times and places that I have been before, and I came here in hopes of regaining a measure of what I knew before. Unfortunately, it does not appear to have worked, and I still remember nothing about this place. Whatever memories I might have had here didn't integrate into my consciousness when I arrived back in this body."

Tom pales a little at my explanation. "I see," he says in scarsely more than a whisper. "You've been forgetting."

"I'm not forgetting anymore," I say firmly, setting my jaw. "I chose to remember. I will not be beholden to anyone, and I will certainly not be afraid of myself."

"What about your 'saving-people-thing'?" Tom asks. "What was that Suzcecoz talking about? What did she mean?"

"I changed the universe, and prevented a disaster of cosmic proportions from coming to pass." I stare off toward a window across from me, wondering absently how the sunlight and view of the city streets appears through the 'magically' enlarged house. Is it like a viewscreen, perhaps? "There is a future now, for me, for you, for everyone. What they choose to do with it is their business."

"What happened?" Kirlin asks. "What sort of disaster?"

"It's hard to explain," I say.

"Try anyway," Tom says.

I rub my face. "I don't entirely understand it myself. A man somehow became a deity who should have never been a deity, who loathed time travel, who loathed immortality, loathed the Force in general. He cut off all sources of immortality and made sure that those who died stayed dead. He cut off any use of time travel. He severely throttled down the power levels in the universe. He even managed to cut off branching timelines and alternate universes. Only one immutable timeline would have existed, under his reign."

"That's..." Kirlin's eyes widen. "Wow, that's bad."

"Deities exist?" Rispy puts in.

"I don't know that I'd call them anyone worth worshipping, but they had entirely too much power and were able to affect the state of the entire universe."

"If you changed the universe, does that make you a deity, then?" Rispy says with a smirk.

I snort softly. "And anyone who would call themselves that would not be worthy of worship, either. No, I wouldn't say so. Anyway, I couldn't have done so under my own power. I called upon a thousand or more regrets, Force users who were both powerful and had equally powerful regrets. Only with their aid was I able to break the future we had been railroaded into, and prevent that future from coming to pass. Apparently, Suzcecoz was one of them, and regretted her part in that cosmic disaster. She was the one who had set things up for that particular man to come into power, in hopes of ousting a man whom she had to believe was worse. He was clearly evil, heavily steeped in the Dark Side of the Force, and intent upon corrupting the universe. I can't really blame her for her actions. She didn't know what the man who came after would do."

"So you don't remember anything?" Kirlin asks. "You don't even remember that I'm your wife and pregnant with your child?"

I look to the floor. "No. I'm sorry."

"Well, I suppose I can't blame you, either, given the circumstances," she says with a grin. "You're going to need to brush up on local terminology, though. I understand what you're saying well enough, but in Thedas, it's called 'magic' and not 'The Force'."

"Primitive superstitions," I say with a shrug. "Fine. Magic it is, then."

"This is going to be interesting," Rispy says with a chuckle.

"And I'm not really sure that I remember nothing, exactly," I say. "There's a... lingering sense of familiarity. Like something that happened a long, long time ago, forgotten in the distant past."

"Maybe it will return, in time, as you're exposed to this world," Kirlin suggests.

"Maybe," I say, shrugging. "So it goes. I'm here now, and that's the important thing, right?" I smile.

"You certainly seem calmer," Tom says. "You were always tense, haunted by things you had witnessed, people you could not save."

"I found the balance of the Force," I reply. "And I realize that I don't need to save everyone, in every timeline. I have already saved everyone in every timeline. Their future is up to them. Now? I can live. For the first time in possibly my entire existence, I can _live_."


	2. Discipline and Order

The next morning, I slip out of the house and take a stroll down the coast by myself to clear my head and perhaps catch my bearings. Immortality notwithstanding, I'm not afraid of heading out for a walk without backup. I can defend myself perfectly well even with one hand, with the Dark Side if necessary, with words more likely.

Up ahead, I notice a pack of giant spider-like creatures attacking one of those short aliens; I still haven't learned what they're called. Well, that's not a problem I'm going to solve with diplomacy. I lift my hand and call upon the rage of the Dark Side, and efficiently send a bolt of Force Lightning toward each of the spiders, careful not to harm the short alien.

"Oh, thank the Maker you came along," Javaris says. "I didn't expect to see an apostate out here, but don't get me wrong, I am most grateful for the assistance."

Apostate? I think I've heard that term used for a Dark Jedi before.

"You're most welcome," I say. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies, gesturing toward the bodies of two humans armed with swords. "The same can't be said for this lot. You can't get a hired blade at a bargain these days."

Why didn't they just use blasters? These were animals, not shielded at all. Maybe they couldn't even afford a simple cheap blaster.

"Can you make it back to town safely without your bodyguards?" I ask.

"I certainly wouldn't mind an escort. The name's Javaris Tintop, by the way. I'll pay you to get me back to town, and I've got another job for you, too, if you're interested."

"I'm never one to turn down money," I reply as we turn to head back on the road toward Kirkwall.

"So, these horn-heads in Kirkwall have this powder that makes things explode," Javaris says. "They wouldn't sell it to me, though. Said I wasn't worthy."

I chuckle and say lightly, "I can't imagine why anyone would want to keep explosives out of the hands of the common populace."

The sarcasm is lost on the short alien. "I know, right? I mean, we dwarves have things that explode, but this stuff is much better. But their leader, the Arishok they call him, said that only their outcasts were that mercenary."

"Ah, so you wanted to buy it from their outcasts," I say.

"No, no," Javaris says. "I figured if I got rid of the outcasts for them, they might like me enough to sell it to me."

I smirk. "So, you want to bet on a 'might', when there's an 'almost certainly' right there that you want to dismiss and destroy any opportunity for before you've even tried it? You couldn't just have decided to do away with the outcasts if they refused to sell? Maybe you didn't think this through very well."

"Well, um..." Javaris backpedals. "These outcasts, the Tal-Vashoth, have been being bandits, preying on merchants. I figured it might be too dangerous to approach them. But you! You're an apostate. You could handle them, easy. Just wave your hands-- er, hand, sorry-- and zap, zap, zap!"

"Fine, fine, I can kill bandits, and I won't turn down money for it, either," I say.

"Great! I'll pay well for the job. If we can get our hands on that powder, we'll be richly rewarded!"

I leave the dwarf at the gates of the city where he'll be able to make his way home safely, and head back out to the coast. After some searching, I come across a tall, grey-skinned alien with large horns on his head, guarding a pathway.

"Halt, human," the horned alien says. "Tal-Vashoth control this area."

"Ah, good, I've found them."

He sizes me up. "I was expecting a merchant caravan, like they have been attacking, not... one crippled human in a robe. Are you Bas-Saarebas? A mage?"

"An apostate, yes," I reply. "What's it to you?"

"It is not my place to judge you," the horned alien says. "If you are capable, it would please me if you killed the other Tal-Vashoth here."

"Why?" I ask.

"They are murdering thieves," he says. "I do not wish to be a murdering thief."

"Fair enough. I'll see what I can do."

"Be cautious, human. I will leave now."

As he turns to go, I head up the path behind him, looking about curiously. I hear voices ahead, speaking in a language that's familiar to me, to no great surprise. I tend to be more surprised when I run across a language that I can't understand. I am not so bold as to preclude defending myself, however. I have a firm hold of the Light Side to misdirect any attacks made against me. I wish I still had a lightsaber. Even with one hand, I could still deflect blaster bolts. A quick assessment of their weaponry indicates that they are not that well-equipped, however. Spears and swords; those I can deal with readily enough. I sense a few Force users in the back, too. I can shield myself against Force powers.

I prefer to speak with aliens in their own language, so I hold up my hand and address them. "Tal-Vashoth, I greet you."

"He doesn't really look rich," one of them mutters to another.

"Whatever, kill him anyway."

Focusing purely on defense, I send their spears flying to miss me and impact the ground beside me. One of them comes at me with a sword and slashes at me viciously. I might have gotten a bit cocky about this. A bloody wound bisects me from the shoulder to the side.

When I die, I find myself in the grey halfway place, the Nexus, staring at the scene of my death swirling before me. I can readily see the span of the past day on Thedas stretching out before me, each scene past my awakening there crisp and clear as my recent time as Darth Revan, with only a hazy line leading up to it. The timeline before then is jagged from multiple deaths, dark for large portions of it, and split into two main branches. It looks like I'd been here for several years, then went back to the start and did it again, probably to fix something terrible that happened.

It does not surprise me at all that I couldn't manage to go a day without dying. But this? This is different. This changes everything. If I'd discovered this while I still cared about saving everyone and everything, that would have made things far easier. But now, all I'm interested in is regaining my memories. Seeing old friends again is certainly a bonus, too. I don't really remember them well, but they feel familiar and comfortable, and that's enough for me.

I pull up an image of the scene just after the Tal-Vashoth who warned me had left, while I was still on the path. My consciousness slips smoothly into my body again with hardly a transition, as if it isn't a transition at all, but that I'm really in all times at once.

I check through my possessions, and find a bag that appears to be bigger on the inside than the outside, just like the house. Sifting through it, I discover that I'm carrying an unbelievable amount of junk. Why do I even have some of these things? I suppose if I have a bag of unlimited holding, there's no real reason for me not to. I imagine a pink teapot might come in handy... at some point... for some reason. Unfortunately, there isn't a single lightsaber in here. I might have to construct my own again, if I can find a suitable crystal. For the moment, I make do with an ordinary longsword.

As I approach the Tal-Vashoth camp, I drop into Shii-Cho form. "Hello, Tal-Vashoth!" I call out.

They definitely don't seem inclined to chat. Bandits or no, I'm not planning to kill them without giving them a chance to speak and tell me why they're doing this. I choose not to kill. I put up the perfect defense like a wall they can't get through, deflecting thrown spears, swords, and Force lightning. It's hardly the first time I've gone up against a group of bandits, and none of them are particularly skilled, even their Dark Jedi are all blind aggression without finesse. Between my blade and the Force, the Tal-Vashoth are eventually laying on the ground or disarmed.

"So, feel like talking now?" I ask them in their own language. "I would have preferred not to fight you, but if violence is the only thing that you will listen to, then so be it."

"How can one crippled human do that?" one of them says, rubbing his head as he stands up slowly. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"A long time ago, somewhere far, far away," I reply.

The Tal-Vashoth sighs and says, "I did not expect to encounter one of the Ben-Hassrath here. Fine, talk. By all means, talk."

The term is clear in my mind, as the rest of his language. Enforcers. Police. Those who protect innocents. Spies. Assassins. "Well, _this_ Ben-Hassrath found you here, and I am most displeased with you," I reply. "Why are you attacking merchants?"

"We revel in chaos," he replies with bravado. "We reject the Qun."

A religious path, philosophy, doctrine. "Okay, that's fair enough, but why?" I ask.

"We did not appreciate our roles, and so we left. We did not wish to be Qunari any longer."

"So you decided to become bandits instead?" I wonder.

"Yes."

"Are you in dire need of money, or did you just want to kill people?"

He shrugs. "We wished to cause chaos."

I snort softly. "That's the sort of nonsense I've heard from Sith all over the galaxy. This is stupid, and this is madness. This is misdirected chaos with no rhyme or reason, and it will get you killed while accomplishing nothing. Does rejecting the Qun mean you have to act like rabid animals up until someone puts you down?"

"And what would you have us do instead?"

"Quit behaving like animals and act like people," I say. "You want to cause chaos? How about going to a pub and getting drunk? Visit a brothel? Smuggle illicent goods? Support oppressed people? Get into politics and suggest reform? Simply living on your own? A little chaos can be a good thing. Chaos brings change. Every living being deserves freedom. But if you insist upon exercising your freedom to kill civilians, then I will exercise my freedom to kill you all."

He looks at me. He looks at my sword. The others shuffle around uncomfortably. "We will go. We will not kill."

"Good." I put my sword away, back into my magic bag. I'm glad that thing is firmly attached to my belt. It would be difficult to sift through otherwise. "See to it that you don't. If you do, I will find out, and I will kill you."

He adds hesitantly, "Yes. Of course. Thank you for sparing us, Ben-Hassrath."

I turn and walk away, and return to town. The dwarf probably went back to talk to the Arishok again. I ask a guard where I can find the man, and get a strange look before he points me in the right direction. There's an entire compound of the horned aliens in the docks district of Kirkwall, some sort of ghetto perhaps, or they keep themselves apart by choice. Sure enough, Javaris stands before one of them with an enormous rack of horns, sitting on a stone chair as if it were a throne.

"Ah, my good friend is back," Javaris says as he sees me.

"We are not friends," I say flatly.

"Whatever," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "The Tal-Vashoth. Did you kill them? Did you kill them all?"

"No."

His face falls. "Then go back and do it! What am I paying you for here?"

I roll my eyes. "I was going to visit them whether you wanted me to or not."

"So what did you do?" Javaris wonders.

"I talked to them," I say.

"You talked to them?" Javaris says hopefully. "Did they decide to tell us the _gaatlok_?"

"You realize you're surrounded by Qunari, don't you?" I comment. "Heavily armed Qunari warriors?"

Javaris looks around uneasily. "Right, right, maybe this isn't the best place to discuss this."

"Regardless, no, I did not ask them to."

"So what did you say to them?" Javaris asks.

"I told them to knock it off or I'd kill them."

"And... they listened?" Javaris says, looking at me in confusion. I'm not sure whether he's disappointed about that or not.

"Yes."

"I can't believe they actually listened, but that's great!"

"I did have to make my point violently first." I shrug.

Javaris brightens again. "Then I'll just go visit them and try to buy the _gaatlok_!"

I roll my eyes and mutter in the Qunari language, "Javaris, you are an idiot."

"What was that?"

I was my hand dismissively. "I suggest you don't. And I suggest you don't bother the Arishok again with your nonsense."

The Arishok punctuates my words with, "Leave. Now."

"Oh, fine, fine," Javaris says, muttering to himself as he goes, "Sodding ox-men and useless hirelings."

"Who are you?" the Arishok asks me.

"Ashkaari," I reply reflexively. Another name that I have used throughout the years? No, I know what it means. Seeker. It's a title, a role, not a name.

"You are a human Qunari?"

Am I? I speak their language. I hold a title. I intuitively understand their general principles. In fact, their creed comes to mind unbidden. "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless. There is nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun." It reminds me distinctly of the Jedi. It may not be perfect, but there is wisdom to be found there.

"I did not expect to see you here," the Arishok says.

"Neither did the Tal-Vashoth," I say with a smirk. "They were rather surprised that the Ben-Hassrath had found them here."

"You let them live?"

"For the moment." I set my jaw and scowl. "Provided they _behave_. If I learn that they've been causing trouble again, I will hunt them down, and I _will_ kill them."

The Arishok nods. "Very well. They may be tempted to return to those ways, as they had been before. But it is not my role to question your methods."

"There is no temptation. There is only choice." I rather like the sound of that phrase in Qunlat.

"Well said," the Arishok replies.

"So long as I am here, is there any other way that I can assist you?" I ask.

"There is... a demand of the Qun."

"Explain."

"We are here, in this filth and squalor, until we can find that which has been lost," the Arishok says.

"I can seek it," I offer. "What is it?"

"An ancient relic," he replies, lowering his voice. "The Book of Koslun. The words of the prophet have been lost to us. It must not fall into the wrong hands."

"I will find it," I promise. "Tell me more. What do you know on what happened to it?"

"It was stolen by a thief," he says in a low growl. "A human woman, called Isabela."

"It will be done," I say with a nod, then give him a goodbye. "Panahedan, Arishok."


	3. Drops of Memory

"Where did you go?" Tom asks when I return to the hovel-mansion.

"I took a walk," I say, shrugging casually and heading in to get lunch.

Tom folds his arms across his chest. "You took a walk that got you killed."

"Only once!"

"I wasn't there to stun you," Tom says. "But I felt you jump back only a few minutes. I take it that's because of your greater control over your powers."

"Yeah," I said, then pause to stare at him for a moment. "You could feel that?"

"We're bound to your soul," Tom says. "I take it you've forgotten that, too. The four of us travel with you through time and space, carried along on your power like passengers on a ship."

I almost drop the bread. "You can _do_ that?" Just when I think nothing will surprise me, I manage to prove even myself wrong. How much have I really learned and forgotten? Still, simply living, talking, and doing in this world is bringing back memories and knowledge.

"I devised a ritual to do so and repeated it with Kirlin, Rispy, and Gellert."

"How does that even work?" I wonder.

"When we arrive in a new world, if a version of ourselves already exists, our consciousness will enter that body and fuse with who we were in that universe. If not, we will come into the universe bodily." He pauses. "At least, that is how it worked before. If you have learned a new way of traversing time and space, I can't say what will happen any longer."

I finish making my lunch as he talks. "You felt it when I died and your memories jumped back to a previous point, you said, yes?"

Tom nods. "That was the case. Perhaps it has not really changed, then."

"I seem to be starting to remember more, too," I say.

"Really, though, there's no need to go out alone," Tom says. "If you want to gratuitously murder people, or just mess with them, I'd hate to miss out on the fun."

Rispy pokes his head in. "Are we killing people?"

I chuckle. "Well, I would so hate to disappoint. Let me finish up with this sandwich and take a nap and we can see if we can find some ne'er-do-wells to beat up."

"You don't need to take naps anymore, didn't you say?" Tom says.

I shrug. "Force of habit? Being actually tired?"

Tom frowns thoughtfully. "Perhaps you can still go back to any point, but there's still the mana exhaustion to contend with. We have plenty of lyrium, though."

Rispy waves a hand. "Eh, we're used to dealing with a narcoleptic immortal time traveler. Go take a nap. I'm going to go take a walk myself."

I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "Wait, you're just going to get up to something fun without me, aren't you."

"What's that?" Rispy says with a grin. "You actually want to come with us, instead of sitting around the house moping all day?"

I give him a strange look. "Sith's blood, why in the galaxy would I sit around and mope?"

Rispy almost giggles. "I like the new Lexen."

"I'm still Lexen," I say. "Wait, you mean to tell me that I _did_ spend a lot of time sitting around moping?"

"You might have," Tom says. "A little."

"Ugh, fuck that," I say, rolling my eyes. "I refuse to mope on principle, and I sure as fuck am not going to miss out on life."

Another man, dressed wildly in crimson, looks around the corner and strolls in, and says with a wild grin, "What's this? Lexen, now with 50% less moping? Or is that 100%?"

I stare at him. "Sorry, who were you again?"

The man in red throws back his head and laughs. "Are you just pretending not to remember me a joke, or did you hit your head and get amnesia or something? Well, I'll play along." He gives what's probably supposed to be a suave bow. "The name's Gellert Grindelweald. Gellert Amell in this world. Shameless apostate, former Dark Lord, and maker of jokes nobody else understands. It's a pleasure to meet you, good sir."

Rispy leans over and stage-whispers to him. "He's actually got amnesia. Sort of."

"Damn, and here I missed out on a prime opportunity to mess with him?" Gellert says, practically pouting. "I should have told you I was the Queen of Antiva!"

I snicker softly. "I see, you're the fifth Tom mentioned. And don't worry, I would have noticed you were lying. Probably. Maybe."

"So, care to give me the short version?" Gellert asks. "I hate to be out of the loop."

"I came back in time with no memory of this timeline," I say.

"Okay, easy enough," Gellert says. "So what's the last thing you remember, then?"

"I split the universe and saved it from some weirdness."

"Yeah, sure, before that!" Gellert says. "Who do you remember being last? Were you Harry Potter again? The hero of the wrong story, or maybe the villain this time?"

"I was Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith," I reply with a smirk.

"Oh, that's a good one!" Gellert says, clapping his hands.

I am thoroughly convinced that this man is insane. Well, at least he seems to be the sort of insane I can trust. Probably. Maybe. Well, I trusted him enough to bind my soul to him, apparently.

"So, you're looking for some action, too?" I ask.

"Maybe. Occasionally. You generally don't want me around because I suggest solving every problem in the most expedient way possible. Usually by expediently killing someone."

I snicker again. It suddenly does not surprise me at all that I would take him along. "Well, true, I generally don't need any help in deciding to solve a problem with violence. But that's so passe, you know? Sometimes keeping them alive is much more amusing and useful."

"Yeah, you always say that." Gellert grins. "Well, so long as I don't have to watch you mope about things and get to kill things, I'm in. Mostly the not moping bit. Andraste's perky titties, you were bad about that for a while there. It was awful."

"No moping from me. Promise." I pause and narrow my eyes at him for a moment. "Andraste's perky titties?"

"The swearing in this universe is a riot! You just put 'Andraste' or 'The Maker' in front of something obscene. Well, most poeple just say 'Maker's breath', but that's boring." Gellert practically giggles. "Anyway, I'll go say my goodbyes to the Guerrins and be back here tomorrow, 'kay? Connor's a big boy now. He's well past the stage of throwing off accidental magic all over the place. He'll be fine." He waves casually and heads for the door.

"That'll be good, having him around again," Rispy says. "He's always good backup in a fight."

"He's always throwing the Killing Curse around indiscriminately, you mean," Tom says.

"Well, so long as he can aim the thing properly..."

"Let's not go there," Tom says with a scowl.

"Hey, it's all good," Rispy says. "He's not going to mope over it anymore, remember? He totally promised."

"He totally doesn't even remember it."

"I don't even know what you're talking about." I stuff the last of the half-forgotten sandwich into my mouth.

"Well, it was like this..." Rispy begins.

"Don't tell a story, Rispy," Tom interrupts. "Just summarize it."

Rispy rolls his eyes. "Fine. We did a thing, some people died, you got upset. So we went waaaaay back in time to fix it. And fixed a bunch of other stuff along the way. And maybe messed up some other stuff, but hey."

I shrug. "Yeah, sounds like me. But don't worry. If I want to change something, I will just go _change it_ and not... mope over it? Sith's-- um, Andraste's blood? Why would I do that?"

"Sometimes things happened that you weren't able to go back and change for whatever reason," Tom says. "Not to mention you had something of a complex about trying to save every universe or something, and kept complaining about the universes you left behind when you died. But, since you've said you weren't going to do that, I don't see what the problem is. And if you do start moping again, I will drag you out of it, Kirlin will nag you to death, or Gellert will try to kick your ass. And Rispy will just go off to save the universe by himself."

"I'm not going to mope," I say.

"Good!" Tom says. "So let's go kill something."

I don't know what my past self was thinking when I decided to bind my soul to these four and drag them through space and time with me, but I think I love them already. I clean up and we head out onto the streets of Lowtown. It's getting late, and the sun is slipping behind the buildings, casting long shadows and leaving much of the town in darkness. And the place still stinks like a garbage chute, at least up until Tom waves a hand at me, and with a small ripple of the Force, my breath clears.

"Bubble-Head Charm," Tom says quietly before moving on.

A dwarf standing at an intersection calls out to us. "Pardon me, sers... oh, it's a duster, a crippled human, and an unarmed man. Sorry, carry on. I was looking for someone who could fight."

Rispy outright giggles thie time. "Well, hello to you too, and an astrast vala or something."

"Well, you've got weapons," the dwarf replies. "I suppose I can't be picky. Can you fight, duster?"

Rispy falls over laughing.

"What's so funny?" I wonder.

Tom rolls his eyes and sighs. "You might as well tell him."

"I think Rispy's having too much fun with this."

"Wait," the dwarf says. "Wait. Did you say Rispy?"

"I said Rispy," I say.

"Paragon Rispy?" the dwarf says, eyes widening and stammering. "By the Stone, I am so sorry, Paragon. I did not realize-- well, I knew you were a brand, but I didn't expect to see you here."

Rispy climbs to his feet and dusts himself off. "Oh, go and spoil my fun, Lexen. I wanted to see if he'd insult me some more."

"I would think you would have had enough of that already," Tom says lightly.

"Yeah, but now it's just funny," Rispy says. "Not like I asked for it, but hey, if they don't make you a Paragon for killing an archdemon, what else are they going to do?"

"I'm sure a Paragon could complete my task admirably, but I doubt you would stoop to--"

"What's the task?" Rispy interrupts.

"You would help me?"

"Well, sure," Rispy says. "I didn't get to be a Paragon by sitting on my ass begging for coppers on a street corner somewhere in the Orzammar Commons just waiting until some guard swept me back into Dust Town. I went out and took the fight to the darkspawn myself in the Deep Roads. I ventured to thaigs long forgotten and found Paragon Caridin and brought him safely back to Orzammar. And--" He takes a breath and smirks widely at the other dwarf. "-- I got them to stop the practice of stripping the castes of dwarves who went to the surface. Now," he folds his arms across his chest, "whose ass needs kicked in today?"

"Y--yes," the other dwarf stammers, looking as though he's about to piss himself. "Um. I'm sorry. Thank you so much for all of that. Um. I just wanted to find someone who could make a simple package retrieval. There's a house in the elven alienage, and--"

"And it's probably a trap," I put in lightly.

"It's always a trap," Tom comments.

"Well, how about we spring it, then?" Rispy says. "Give us directions."

The dwarf tells us where to find the house in question, and we head into the alienage. The silence is broken only by a breeze drifting in from the ocean and the faint rustle of leaves. It's quiet. Too quiet. All the elves appear to be inside at the moment.

"That's an awfully tiny house," I mutter. "Do you think they could have magically expanded it?"

Tom shakes his head. "We're probably the only ones who know how to do that, in this universe."

"Can't be too many people inside," I say. "They'll probably ambush is from outside. I'm guessing they're hiding or waiting somewhere at the moment." I close my eyes and reach out with the Force, and nod. "There's... maybe a half dozen people inside this building. Can't tell who else might be hiding around. Too amny elves that actually live here."

"We're going to need to finish that magic map of Kirkwall sometime," Tom says. "Haven't had a chance to explore all the nooks and crannies yet."

"We should probably quit loitering and get on with the trap before someone notices," I say with a grin. "Rispy, can you deal with the guys inside?"

Rispy gives a feral grin and brandishes two short blades. "Absolutely."

I nod. "Alright. Do it. We'll watch your back. I don't doubt there are more of them."

Tom waves a hand at me and I feel the Force wash over me. "Disillusionment Charm," Tom explains quietly. I really need to learn some of the techniques he's using. They definitely seem useful. My knowledge of Force powers that don't involve electrocuting things is definitely lacking.

The faint sounds of a scuffle emerge from within the thin walls of the shabby hovel, and around us, a larger group of fighters arranges themselves throughout the alienage. Rispy steps outside again a few minutes later, covered in blood. Using Jar'Kai two-weapon form with a pair of short edged weapons like that has to be messy. That's one thing that can be said about lightsabers. A lot less mess.

One of the thugs says, "That's not the slave."

"Whatever, our orders were to kill anyone that goes into the house."

Slavers? Yeah, I don't even need to feel sorry to slaughtering these bastards. I step out of the alley and allow rage to fuel Force Lightning, and rain destruction down upon them. Rispy dances in with his blades, and Tom backs us up with Force shields. Nice, he's pretty good at that. If I'd had him around with the Tal-Vashoth outside, I wouldn't have had to entirely focus on defense to hold them off. After a vicious fight, the slavers lay bloody and dying on the ground.

As Rispy is wiping off his blades, another man steps into the entrance to the alienage and starts blustering about something, at least up until a glowing elf walks up behind him and phases his hand through the man's chest and crushes his heart.

"That's hot," I say offhandedly.

Flashes of memory rush through my head. Fenris is his name, and he's an escaped slave on the run from his former master, a Tevinster magister by the name of Danarius. We chased Danarius to a mansion in Hightown, where instead of Danarius, we encountered Suzcecoz. I abruptly realize that memories only really come back clearly when something happens almost exactly like it did before. Rispy wasn't along last time, but Tom was, and the fight went pretty much the same, including Fenris' dramatic entrance. And my commentary on it. But how am I supposed to know to do things the same way if I don't remember how I did them in the first place? Well, if I act like I normally do, I'm likely to run into them again anyway. But on the other hand, I was probably being more mopey at the time, too. Whatever. I'll just have to deal with it. If events wind up being desynchronized from what I did before, then so be it. I'll find out one way or another, and I'll have all the chances I need to figure it out. Either way, I still appreciate the chance to live through these events, whether they're the same or different, with my friends again.

Fenris' words bring me back to the present. "We must make haste if we are to catch Danarius before he leaves town."

I nod. "Let's do it. Those who would rob people of their freedom deserve nothing but death."

Upon reaching the mansion in Hightown, we soon discover that Danarius isn't present, and neither is Suzcecoz. It seems she held good to her promise and is staying out of my affairs this time around. But I wonder how much she did before, and how that will chance how things happened here? How much will I be able to remember if things go differently?


	4. Pestering Dwarves

The pebble rattles against the table, shifting about to and fro, but steadfastly shows absolutely no desire to lift into the air by my command. I let out a breath in frustration and relax my hold over the Force.

"Lexen, what are you doing?" Kirlin asks, leaning an arm on the doorframe, her robes hardly fitting her heavily pregnant belly.

"I figured improving my telekinesis skills might help to make up for my missing hand," I reply, rubbing my head. "The pebble does not appear to agree."

Kirlin comes over to sit across from me, looks at the pebble. "You don't remember how to shield yourself? To deflect attacks?"

"Yeah, but that's completely different," I say.

Kirlin looks up at me. "How?"

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out, and I just sit there gaping at her for a long moment. "Kirlin," I say finally, as the pebble lifts smoothly into the air. "You are a genius."

The Force swirls around the stone, suspending it in a shield as though gripping it with a hand. Here I'd been trying to make the pebble itself move, while it never occurred to me that stones can't move; I have to move them. With one word, Kirlin reminded me how my past self fell in love with her, and I've fallen in love with her all over again. And also realized she's way smarter than me.

"What, because I can point out the obvious?" she says with a grin, reaching across the table to put her hand on mine.

I smile warmly at her and grasp her hand, threading my fingers through hers, and gently let the pebble down on the table. "That will probably make what I plan to do easier, at least. I'm just going to need to find some precision metalworking tools, high-tension alloys, and a focus crystal."

"You'll probably want to talk to the dwarves about that," Kirlin says. "Also, you could still probably use a shield even without your hand, if you strap it to your arm."

"I don't know how to use a shield," I say.

"You could ask Aveline for pointers," Kirlin says, then when she sees my blank look, adds, "She's with the city guard. We saved her life once and purged the taint from her husband."

The front door bangs open, and Gellert strides inside, still dolled up in fancy crimson to look like some sort of minor noble. "I heard there was action here?" he says, waggling his eyebrows.

"You know," I say. "You'll be quite the sight hanging around this slum."

Gellert chuckles. "Obviously, I'm just here to visit my darling mistress, the beautiful elf, Kirlin here." He bows toward her and reaches out a hand to her.

"Fuck off, Gellert," Kirlin says.

"So kind of you to say!" Gellert says.

"Gellert, I loathe you with a hatred that spans the length and breadth of the Fade," Kirlin says flatly. "The ice in my heart that I bear for you shall sublimate into a miasma of black ire to choke you like dark tendrils strangling you around your throat until you cannot speak, cannot breathe, and cannot bother me ever again."

"Isn't she sweet?" Gellert says, grinning at me.

"Well then," I say, blinking.

"Shall we go find something to kill, Lexen?" Gellert asks, turning to me.

"You boys have fun with that," Kirlin says, standing slowly and walking away with a roll of her eyes.

Tom and Rispy show up as if on cue. "Did someone mention killing things?" Tom says.

"Sounds good to me," I say, then look to Gellert. "You're going to get that nice outfit all bloody."

"Eh, that's what Scourgify is for," Gellert replies with a shrug, and heads for the door. The rest of us go with him.

"Tergeo might work better for that," Tom says offhandedly.

"Whatever," Gellert says, rollnig his eyes. "Unlike some people, I've been working with the magic used in this world in addition to teaching Connor how to use word-based magic."

"Thedas magic is clumsy and lacks finesse," Tom says. "Only good for brute force. And you've been teaching him spell incantations? Won't that be difficult without a wand to an untrained wizard? Staves are no good for precise work."

"Fingers work fine, though," Gellert says. "Sure, there's more overhead to learn to use it in the first place, but far more potential when it's done. And you never have to worry about losing your wand."

"Wands are very useful for additional focus and power," Tom says.

"Yeah, but they're a crutch," Gellert says. "I spent way too much of my life obsessed with that damned Elder Wand, and now look where we are?" He snickers. "Thanks to time travel and dimension mechanics, there's more than one of the things floating around between us."

"Oh, look, there's a dwarf," Rispy says. "I'm going to go annoy him."

I chuckle, and follow along after him as he takes the lead. Tom rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation.

The dwarf looks over to Rispy in distaste. "I don't need anymore Stone-damned dusters to help haul things out of the Deep Roads. You'll have to go somewhere else for your meal ticket."

Rispy seems highly amused, but a flash of memory comes to mind. They went down into the ancient dwarven tunnels beneath the Free Marches, Tom, Rispy, and some Qunari for some reason. I don't remember what happened, but I get an inexplicable feeling of dread about it.

"Don't go to the Deep Roads," I say quietly.

"Are you out of your mind?" the dwarf says. "Sure, it'll be dangerous, but after a Blight, there will be a lot less darkspawn running around. There won't be another opportunity like this in my lifetime! If you don't want to go, you're welcome to stay put."

I didn't go along on the trip to the Deep Roads. I stayed behind in my house, probably moping. Going along won't help me recover my memories, since it was something I hadn't done before. And yet, there's no way in hell that I'm going to stay behind moping. Whatever is down there, whatever happened there, I want to find out and see it firsthand.

"Fine," I say. "We'll go with you."

The dwarf snorts. "And what are you lot? A duster, a cripple, a fop, and a vagabond? You make quite the ridiculous sight. What do you think you can do?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Tom says.

"Oh, come on," the dwarf says. "Next you'll be telling me this duster is a Paragon."

"Wellllll," Rispy drawls, grinning.

"Rispy, quit playing with the poor dwarf," Tom says.

"Aww, come on," Rispy says. "Do we have to tell every dwarf in the city?"

Gellert puts in, "We could always put up a big glowing sign that says 'Paragon Rispy, Slayer of the Archdemon'. And play theme music whenever you enter a room."

The dwarf stares at us. "Fine, you lot can come. But you have to front me some gold as an investment so I can get this expedition off the ground."

"Wouldn't it be more useful to get it _into_ the ground?" Gellert says.

"A real joker, are you," the dwarf says. "If you're really Grey Wardens, get me some maps, too."

As we walk away, Gellert rubs his chin. "Hmm, we haven't gotten to kill anything yet today, but this promises the opportunity to kill a lot of darkspawn."


End file.
